


Captain Oblivious, Jr.

by pieta (ManicMoose)



Series: Full House 'Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curtain Fic, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Oblivious, Parenthood, Realization, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-23
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManicMoose/pseuds/pieta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny Winchester has a multitude of skills. Detecting homoerotic parental sub-text is apparently not one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain Oblivious, Jr.

**Author's Note:**

> Established relationship. Future!Fic (aka Shameless Domestic!Fic). This very literally popped into my head, dialogue and all when waking up one morning, and I was questionably driven to write it out while it was there. All 3000 words of it. On my IPod, in bed. *facepalm* I just decided to throw myself fully off the cliff and post it because damned if I’m going to make that sort of effort for nothing. I’ve never written a fic of any kind before, ever. Thusly, it has not been beta’d at all either. So please be all understanding and not burn me in a ceiling fire, yes? *runs and hides*

Johnny raps his knuckles on the door, pushing it open and sticking his head into the room when he hears the muffled go-ahead from inside.

       "Hey Uncle Sam, how’s it going? I was wondering if you had that info on Gris-gris bags together for me yet." He asks cheerfully, but Sam barely glances up from the thick-ass book he had propped in his lap, hunkered down low in his big armchair by the fireplace.

      "Oh... Yeah, 'sover there ...somewhere." Waving a huge hand vaguely in the direction of the cluttered desk under the window, focusing intently on his book. Which was... weird actually, because call Johnny crazy but Sam’s eyes don’t even look like their moving over the words, and Sam reads crazy fast. So no way in hell was he tripping up over- Johnny peers casually at the book cover while wandering across the room- 'The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire'. In English and everything. Major eyeball shiftiness should definitively be happening. Sifting through the mess of books and papers on the desktop, he pauses briefly over the semi-unfurled blueprints of the ranch house.

       "Hey, you and Dad thinking of doing some home reno or something?" He glances back over his shoulder when Sam lets out a disgruntled snort.

       "Somethin’ like that. Thinking ‘bout maybe sellin’,... now that y’ kids are older. Jus’ figurin’ out what sort of work needs t’be done iffit gets to that. 'Minds me, we'll hafta to call up the lawyers soon ‘bout it," Sam slurs despondently. _And wait just a minute._  Was Sam _drunk_?  _At two o’clock in the afternoon?_  Johnny squints at him, trying to sniff the air discreetly for any hint of booze. There was definitely an eau-de-whiskey. Also, Sam eyes look a little red... and puffyish. Had he been _crying_? Johnny’s gut twists a little at that thought. The idea of Sam actually crying over... anything, really, was oddly alarming. This was Uncle Sammy, who y'know, took care of him when he was sick, and made sure the laundry got done, and lectured him over grades or cleaning his room. Who rubbed soothing circles over his back to help him sleep when he broke his arm in third grade and no way of lying down seemed remotely comfortable, then did the same for Mary and Ellie when they broke up with their first boyfriends. Uncle Sammy, who taught him Latin, and cleansing rituals, and how to write a damn good essay. Uncle Sammy who made their lunches and convinced Dad that mac’n’cheese or pizza every night for dinner was really not quite an acceptable form of nourishment for growing children. Johnny may never have had a Mom, but from what he'd gleaned from the family dynamics at his friends’ houses over the years was he actually kind of did. His just happened to be 6'5, and built like a redwood. And, you know, a dude. Not that he would ever tell anyone that, especially not Sam, even on pain of death. But the sentiment was there. And just like any dude, full grown or not, the idea of his Mom crying was distressing. The idea of the house he grew up in going up for sale was definitely not easing the distress. Instead it was… making his throat feel uncomfortably tight. Again, not that he was gonna give that away at all. He was so not gonna be a big girl over it. Anyway, Sam probably hadn’t even been crying; he was just imagining shit. Sam Wesson did not go about crying like some delicate flower.

       "Ookaay." Spotting the handful of papers, half print, half Sammy-scrawl, 'Gris-gris' scribbled across the top in black marker.  He crows "Bingo!" maybe a wee bit over-enthusiastically, waving the bundle in the air. Sam’s eyes stay blankly fixed on his lap. He definitely isn’t reading.

       "Right. So, I'm gonna," he gestures lamely towards the door, "...go then. Thanks" He backs out of the room slowly, easing the door shut on Sam's distracted wave goodbye. Awwkward.

\---

  
       He's still feeling lingering hints of discomfort from that bizarre encounter with Sam upstairs when he wanders into the kitchen a little later. Weird shit that he is not emotionally equipped to deal with, in the middle of the afternoon, calls for a beer. When he swings the fridge door shut to find his sisters standing behind it expectantly, the bottle nearly shoots out of his grasp as he jumps about a foot. Goddamn ninjas, putting good beer in danger.

      "Johnny, we need to talk." Mary gives him a stern look, crossing her arms over her chest and assuming the universal bossy-big-sister stance.

       "Kay, Dude, but there's no reason to try to give me a freakin’ heart attack!" Twisting his bottle open and leaning against the kitchen's island. "What's up?"

       "It's about Dad and Uncle Sam. Their..." she sighs heavily, as her and El plunk themselves down at the table. "We overheard them arguing, talking about selling the house."

       "Yeah, Sam just mentioned it to me. What's up with that? And with him? And why the hell do two grown men need to call in the damn lawyers just to sell a place?" He takes a healthy swig from his bottle to ease that funny twisty feeling that's announcing itself in his gut again. He nearly chokes when Ellie suddenly and unexpectedly bursts into tears.

       "It means that they might be splitting up, Doofus!" She yells at him, furiously wiping at her face. Ellie hates crying.

       "Splitting... Wait- what?" He puts his beer down on the countertop. "You mean Dad..., and Uncle Sam.... are..." He trails off, eyes wide and mouth working soundlessly, like a fish out of water. “Like…,” he makes a semi-obscene gesture with his hands. His sisters stare back at him with identical 'Are you serious? You are too stupid to live.' looks they've perfected throughout the years. “What the hell? Since when?!”

       "Since, oh,  _twenty-five or so years ago_?! Oh my Goood!" Mary practically shrieks. "Are you seriously trying to tell us you didn't realize, sometime in your past  _twenty_  years that our Dads were our, y'know, our  _Dads_?!" She draws out the last word, and mimes his gesture back at him, leaving no room for mistaking what she meant with that emphasis. And no freaking way. His Dad, Dean Winchester, ladies’ man extraordinaire, was totally,  _ridiculously_  straight. Sure, Uncle Sam had maybe shown a capacity to bat for either team, depending on the hotness factor of the players, but- _Dad?_   _Dad_  with Sam?  _Gay_  with Sam?  _No. Freaking. Way._

       "Seeeriously?" Ellie gawks up at him incredulously.

       "Seriously, what? What's all the ruckus about?" Mary's fiancée, Harley, pipes up as he wanders into the kitchen and helps himself to a beer.

      "Johnny didn't realize that Dad and Daddy are a couple." Ellie supplies helpfully, in a tone that suggests he didn't realize the sky was blue or something. Teenagers, ugh. And really, if he wasn't so distracted by the current monumental rocking of his universe, the colossal spit-take that has Harley spraying beer across the kitchen would be wildly hilarious.

       "Hoooly shit, Dude. Seriously? Are you for real? That's a pretty spectacularly huge thing to miss." Harley exclaims as he half-heartedly cleans up his mess and swipes a hand across his mouth, before wandering around the island to take a seat next to Mary.

       "You knew?!" Johnny gapes back in dismay. Harley knew? Harley, who'd only come to live with them at 17, when he was orphaned by the werewolf Dad and Sam had been hunting. But  _he_  didn't?  _Oh god._  He wanders to the table himself and sinks down across from the rest of them. "Am I the only one who didn't know?!"

       "That Sam and Dean are Sam  _slash_  Dean, as in together? Um, yeah Dude, I'm pretty sure you’re the only one who didn't know that one." Harley hoots with laugher as he swigs his beer. "Man, that has to be like, some kind of record for stupidity! Not realizing your parents are together-together until you’re twenty? Like, Dude- _seriously_ ; two unrelated adult men, living and raising three kids together? That’s not like, a glowing neon rainbow flag or anything, not at all."

       "They have separate bedrooms! I thought that... You know, Sam was  _Uncle_  Sam. Like Uncle Cas or Grandpa Bobby." Johnny ventures lamely.

       "You dumbass. Because Uncle Cas and Grandpa Bobby lived with us, and took care of us, and tucked us in at every night? The whole room thing is  _so_  obviously for ‘appearances’ sake,” Mary flaps her hands in the loathed air quotes motion. “I mean, when have you ever seen Uncle Sam actually sleeping in his room, except for after big blow-outs, or when Grandpa Bobby visited? Why the hell did you think he was constantly showing up in Dad’s bedroom? Did you think he just happened to prefer using Dad's washroom? And that he used to just, what, bound into Dad's room- Dad's  _bed_ , on Christmas mornings when we were little to wake him up before we did?!"

       "Uh, I guess... yes? I mean, I always thought they were... very  _close_. Closeness! Very... close... brotherly closeness!” Mary snorts, curiously similar to the way Sam had earlier. But she was clearly missing out on the most pressing fact here. "But Dad’s  _not gay!_  He loves women! He’s a total dog! He’s just, y’know, discreet about things. I mean, he had us and everything, didn’t he? 

       “When it comes to women, Dad is about as subtle as a flying brick. So what? Ridiculous levels of flirtation and a couple of women? On a couple of dates? At random intervals over twenty years, usually after he and Sam had been arguing a lot? All of whom mysteriously incurred Sam's undying hatred for no apparent reason. Just like the few girls and guys on Sam's end did Dad's?  _Not remotely suspicious._  They totally just try to make each other jealous; they obviously never even slept with any of them. The only thing in the world that Dad is even  _capable_  of being discreet about is him and _Sam_.” Mary enunciates slowly, like she's presenting the case of their Big Gay Dads to a class of especially slow kindergarteners. 

       “Also, Dude, you never got the feeling Dean was over-compensating just a little bit?” Harley cuts in cheekily, holding his fingertips a breath apart and squinting at them. “I mean, one can only be so butch before it starts to get questionable.” Mary glares sideways, then smacks him upside the head none-too-gently while Ellie giggles manically. 

       “You are  _not_  helping. And besides, Johnny, there is more than one way to skin a cat when it comes to having kids. I mean, sure,  _I_  was an accident, before Dad and Sam really... Dad didn’t even know about me until my Mom died, and anyway; Dad got me, Sam stayed, and later _they_  had you and then Ellie  _on purpose_  through a surrogate. Or did you also think Sam just found El under a cabbage leaf in the garden? And that Dad was all,  _‘Hey, bring her in, we’ll raise her as my kids’ sister and I’ll be her other dad in a totally not-gay way!’_? This is insane. My god Johnny, have you never asked Dad or Sam any questions about, well,  _anything_?”

       "I- ...no?" He'd never even thought to ask questions, because why? Sure, there were some pointed differences between them and his friends’ families; like having a Gigantor uncle for a mom stand-in, a ‘sister’ who was actually Gigantor’s spawn, and his Dad being super, weirdly close with said uncle. Which okay, wow, that actually does sound _incredibly gay_. But no one else really ever said anything, and they were a family, and they were happy, and they just _worked_. What does anything really matter besides that? What was there to question? It's occurring to him now;  _a lot_ , apparently. Because he's apparently been on the wrong page his whole fucking life, and he's never felt like a bigger idiot, and he can feel a full-on panic attack building in his chest. It’s kind of like he really did know all along, but he never really thought about it, and now that he’s catching up to speed his brain is very possibly going to explode.

       "But…They never said anything! They've never been like, touchy or anything! And why the hell have we been calling Sam  _Uncle_? Why not ‘Dad 2’, or something, I don’t know,  _a little more freakin’ indicative?!_ ” He waves an accusing hand toward Mary. Desperately grasping at pathetic straws; at this point it's pretty much just a pointless defence for pride's sake.

       "Hello, I was the 'Oops’ baby, remember? From when they were first starting out- figuring things out- when being gay and having kids was still sort of tricky! And then when you came along, you picked it up, and it sort of stuck. I always knew they were both, y’know, our  _Dads_  though! And I thought you did too! Like, Jesus, why would they have to say anything! Do any parents announce  _'Kids, just wanna let you know, we have sex'_?! Just because they’re not the PDA type it doesn’t mean they don’t love each other! It’s just how they are... Sam says it’s cause they grew up in a different time; that Dad just can’t deal, and they had tough time in the begi- Oh my god why am I even explaining this! You should know these things! _You should have realized and asked them yourself!_ " She downright squeals in outrage. "You are so freaking  _oblivious_  it borders on actual mental deficiency! Sam's totally right! You are  _exactly_  like Dad!"

       "Exactly like me, how? By being such a handsome devil?" Dad chimes in suddenly from the doorway, trademark smirk in place. The kitchen falls dead silent instantly, and all of them freeze in place. Johnny can feel his cheeks heating up in a particularly unflattering hue, and it was really not much of a consolation that the girls looked like they’d just gotten busted trying to sneak out the window at four am. Harley, on the other hand, definitely had a one-up on them all in the poker face department, though he did suddenly seem to think that the answers to the universe lay in his longneck, the way he was staring at it. Not that Dad seemed to notice any of this, swaggering over to the fridge for a beer, and ruffling his hand over Johnny's hair along the way. "What the hell? You guys are drinking all my beer! Your better get me some more by tomorrow. There is no way I'm making it through Christmas without beer. And pie. You drink all my beer, you better get me some pie." Dean monologues into the fridge before turning back around to twist his bottle open and scowl his ‘Dad Stare of Doom’ at them. Johnny stares hard at him, searching for any sort of major clue indicating Epic Gay Lover that he might have failed to detect up until now. All he can see is his usual, smugly self-confident, clown of a dad. 

       "We'll get you your beer and your pie Dad, don't worry," Mary beams up at him, the need to be Daddy's little princess obviously outweighing even the giant awkward homosexual elephant in the room.

       "I dunno if you need any more pie though old man, you’re really starting to let yourself go in your old age, hey?" Harley adds, grinning at Dean devilishly. The wily bastard had clearly gleaned on to an excellent diversionary tactic.

       "Let myself- I’m not!" Dean blusters, looking down and running his free hand over his still-lean stomach reassuringly. Then he narrows his eyes. " _Old?_  You calling me old?! Keep that talk up and you'll be marrying my little girl over my dead body!"

       "Well, at the rate you’re going at, I just might be," Harley grins wider, rocking his chair back and resting an arm along the back of Mary's chair. She swats at him, giggling, and Dean pretends to 'humph’ in an appropriately fatherly way while his eyes crinkle at the corners. He frowns into his beer when his eyes land on Ellie though. She's sitting sulky and silent, mouth scrunched up in a great impersonation of what Dean would call 'Sammy's patented bitchface'.

       "What'sa matter, baby girl?" He strides over to her side, smoothing his hand over her thick brown hair, and tugging gently on a lock of it. He looks thoughtful for a moment. "You look just like your Dad when you’re all mopey." Ellie gradually smiles up at him, unable to resist what she considers to be a great compliment. Then Dean's face shutters closed suddenly, and he rubs his palm against his grease streaked work jeans, stepping back.

       "I'm gonna go back out to work on the Impala some more," he mumbles as he heads back out of the kitchen. Johnny stares at Ellie, still stuck in the moment of Dad's hand on her head. Ellie, his baby sister. Ellie, who was Sam's daughter and, or rather,  _but-_  his sister. Ellie, who called Sam Daddy, and Dean Dad. And why had that never occurred to him as being significant, and weird? And _seriously_   _fucking significant_. He can vividly remember the day that Dad and Sam brought Ellie home from the hospital, his earliest memory. He hadn’t particularly understood just how Uncle Sam was bringing home a baby that was his, when there’d been no Mommy around to carry it around in her tummy, and Sam certainly hadn’t ballooned up or anything. But it was a brand new baby sister for him, apparently; and he wouldn’t have to be the  _‘baby’_ anymore, so he hadn’t been about to question their obviously faulty logic.

_There was Sam, all pale, and drawn, and absolutely terrified looking, hovering next to her carrier awkwardly. And Dad, calling him and Mary over, to come meet their new baby sister. Grinning as he reached over to undo the straps holding her secure, and then lifting her up to cradle her against his chest._

_"See, Sammy? She's just like the other two we've managed without killing so far. Just 'cause she's built with Sammy-blocks instead of admittedly superior Dean one's, doesn't make her especially breakable." And then Sam looked at Dad over their heads, at him holding tiny Ellie so gently, and his eyes were all melty-soft as he reached out a huge hand to cup against the side of Dad's face. And Dad had leaned into that touch infinitesimally._  
  
        Something just clicked, and it was like he suddenly had access to a behind-the-scenes slideshow of their life so far. All the little intimate touches, and looks; whispers, and flushed faces, and that time he saw them out in the yard from his window and from that angle it ha!  _totally_  looked like they were  _kissi_ -

       " _Holy fucking shit!_ " Apparently, he was a completely blind and deaf idiot. He jumps up from the table so hard his chair clatters to the floor. He needs a beer, or two, or twelve, pretty much right this second. Harley, Mary and Ellie just sit, smirking up at him. So maybe he  _hadn’t_  been aware that the sky was blue- all this time, he’d been wandering around in rose-coloured glasses thinking it was a mellow shade of purple. Then Ellie pushes her bangs up out of her face with her palm, and quirks her mouth in that way that totally makes her look exactly like Sam- Sam; his  _other Dad_. 

       " _Moron_."


End file.
